Celluloid Dream
by Helena-Mara
Summary: When perhaps you love someone you shouldn't. When you're destined , but still have to deal with the complexities and complications of an extraordinary existence. Quil x Claire
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note: **Hello there ! Please offer any criticism or thoughts you have on this chapter - all reviews are very much appreciated

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the characters!

**Chapter One**

The wind whipped around my family's old two-storey home as I huddled up in my quilt, looking ruefully out the window. My searching eyes scanned the landscape as torrential rain poured without mercy and splattered with regretful denouement against the now muddy grass. The frenetically constant downpour was to be expected here in La Push, but tonight, it just felt so _wrong._

I turned away from my window and settled quietly into my bed. I pulled my blankets up past my neck and over my head, enveloping myself under the sheets. Stretching out the cloth a few inches from my face, I tried to make out pictures in the nighttime. The fabric was my screen and my head was the projector, as I conjured up images of warmer times. A lone shiver gently shook my pale green bed sheet that was immersed in the darkness of 11pm, breaking my reverie.

"Where is he?" I questioned exasperatedly under my breath.

Quil had been gone now for three days.

And in those past three days, this small town had become even more static than usual. All the "protectors" of La Push were M.I.A, which made me even more anxious about Quil's sudden departure. All the possible risks involved with their job flashed fiercely through my head, adding more unease to the growing pit in my stomach. As far as I knew, none of them held weapons of any kind. So what chance did they stand against a crazed gunman or a wild animal? Granted, Uncle Sam and his "pack" (as they often referred to themselves) were hardly weaklings. They were all six-foot-something and looked somewhat indestructible with their bulky muscles.

At first, I was mildly relieved that at least I'd have a little "Claire-time," without the irreverently overprotective Quil around, taking note of when I'd last eaten and watching me intently as if I were about to go jump off the cliffs near First Beach. But even though Quil could be ridiculous at times, there was no one in this world I trusted more.

Some days I think that I really _love_ Quil. He was my very best friend. My mother and Aunt Emily had told me, that ever since I was two-years-old, I had been inseparable from him. But that sharp, undeniable emotion took me by perfect surprise only a few months ago. It dawned on me during another Quil-less afternoon, where he was out working and I was sitting on the ocean's shore, waiting for the tide to come in. That day at the beach, I stretched out on the sand, with my toes just skimming the edge of the water. The game was based on suspense; waiting in anticipation, yet being totally unprepared when, within minutes, the tide gushes in and soaks through your thin summer clothes. As per usual, I grinned at the sudden invigorating coolness of the water, but was quickly reminded of what was missing. Quil and I had played this game when we were younger. It was in that moment that it officially dawned on me how much he was truly apart of my very existence. A shy sense of longing filled up my chest, and I clutched onto my sides, to steady myself.

I remember that I couldn't look at him in the eye for days after that. He had been worried about what was wrong, but I couldn't admit my attraction to him and how much I desired him to be in love with me too. Despite my trying to deny the delicate swirls that built up with intensity from deep within my belly at the mere thought of Quil, they existed. However, I was beleaguered with inevitable problems. Part of it was the shame I felt. I felt tiny and insignificant. Quil was far too old for me, and I was probably misinterpreting 'love.' People threw that word around too much these days.

There were days when I would think intensely about why we just _were_. We existed separately, yet were somehow intrinsically linked. These introspective days gave me headaches. I could never truly figure _it_ out and it bothered me. To my knowledge, there were always truths hidden beneath the murky obscurity. And that's exactly what Quil was to me - I knew his reactions; I knew the sound of his voice, the common phrases he articulated and the movements he made. He was as loyal as a dog; but there was always a distance.

The inner critic tore me down and sewed me back up again – war weary but still able to fight. I tried to stop thinking about it too much because I didn't want to let myself be hurt by unrequited love.

But inevitably, we all do.

And now he was gone and I didn't like it at all. He was always the one warning _me_ about the dangers of going anywhere alone and now he was probably off doing the same, in the rain no less!

I rolled over to face the violent storm outside my window.

I had given up on trying to sleep that evening. "Nevermind," I thought to myself, glancing over the contents of my messy room, searching for maybe a note or a sign to tell me where Quil was. My eyes pored over the piles of paper that littered my carpet and most probably, could be deemed a fire hazard, but there was nothing unfamiliar about the school notes that cluttered my room. My tripod and camera remained still, struggling to maintain it's upright position amongst the throng of winter paraphernalia and unsorted photographs. The inky shadows that cast themselves upon the floor expressively moved to the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain and distracted me for a minute.

A peal of thunder irreverently resurrected me, as I tossed yet again, in anxiousness. I faced the wall in disdain as the clangourous weather raged on behind me.

"It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't expect him to be here," I mused silently, gently tracing my fingers over the patterns on my quilt. How did I not suspect that that something was wrong? The feeling of his parting embrace was so final. My mind shifted back in time to remember our last meeting over three days ago, where he clutched onto me in a subtle desperation and the smallest hint of fear was present in his brown eyes. These were the moments that usually triggered the introspection, the reading between the lines, the over-analysis. But for some stupid reason (the giddy, hormonal sensation in the knees and stomach?), I was prevented from thinking clearly. "He was saying goodbye…" I mouthed to myself softly.

"No, no…" I repeated. I wouldn't believe that. I couldn't. He'd come back.

"He'll come back, right?" I questioned out loud. I threw it out there, into the world, half wanting a sign, half not expecting one.

However, the crude clamour of metal falling and paper shuffling abruptly alerted me to the unknown presence behind me. I immediately shifted into a somewhat defensive position on my bed, when I looked up and realised it was none other than the ever-graceful Quil, struggling with remaining vertical after tripping over an unseen coat hanger on the floor.

"Claire - " he began, in a clearly repentant tone.

Part of me wanted to kill the guy, the other part made my lips form into a wide smile and throw myself at him with full force. He stumbled backwards but took me into his wide arms as I rested my head into his chest. I could feel his muscles relax underneath me, and his ragged breathing slowed down into a calm rhythm.

"Never leave me like that again, Quil," I murmured gently into his chest.

"Never," he responded, with a certain sense of resolve that didn't escape me this time. His warmth enclosed me in a comforting feeling of familiarity. Quil had always been one to hug me, to let me know how much he truly cared for me. Despite the many friends that I had gone through during school, Quil was always the one common thread in my life, sometimes keeping it together. This was the reason why I didn't question his return, but welcomed him back. By the time I had reached the age of fifteen, I had started to realise how much Quil sacrificed for me and for my happiness. Now, at the age of seventeen, I felt deeply indebted to this man, who for some reason felt compelled to make sure I was always okay.

I looked up at him and noticed the tired bags under his eyes.

"You should sleep, Quil," I said with concern, moving away from him and offering him my bed.

He shook his head and pulled me back to him, where he rested his head against mine. We stood like this for a few moments, before I could feel him open his mouth to speak again.

"I should go," he whispered into my ear, regretful responsibility dripping from his every word.

I nodded into him, too tired now to try and refute his statement. The green neon time, flashed into view and told me it was already 2:39am. My wired and anxious feeling of prior had washed away into a calm lethargy.

"Quil is okay," I thought, half-awake, as he put me into bed and secured the covers tightly around me.


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note - **I finally found some inspiration to keep this story going =] Apologies for the very long wait.

**Chapter Two**

I breathed in the sweet scent of dampened cedar tree bark that was permeating the fresh morning air. While the skies were still a devastatingly murky hue of grey, the clouds had thinned slightly, letting in some light from the sun to signify the beginning of this new day. Fortunately enough, the rain had stopped.

I moved away from my opened window and began to expertly make my way through the 'organised chaos' that had become my bedroom floor. It wasn't so much that I was a messy person, it was more likely that I could be considered a busy person - at least in the past month or so. The start of my junior year at high school had prompted this influx of disordered living. I had never been so inundated with schoolwork at such a rate before, and was only slowly getting used to working around this frenzied schedule.

I slipped on my dressing gown and padded around my room, eventually retrieving my camera and sitting down on my bed to inspect the photographs I had taken yesterday. Within minutes, I heard the heavy steps of Quil make the floorboards creak as he walked up the stairs, obviously not taking the care he took earlier that morning now that it was daylight. I held up my camera. "Say 'cheese!'" I exclaimed to the unsuspecting Quil making his way through my doorframe.

"Ha, ha," he remarked sarcastically, "like you haven't done that one before."  
"Yes, but I haven't been able to do it for a while," I said smiling. "You've barely been here lately." Quil's face dropped a little.

"You know I don't-" he started.

"I know," I finished. He let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his cropped hair.

"You don't understand how much I want to tell you everything Claire," he said.

"I know. I get it, Quil. If there's one thing I _do _know, is that whatever _this_ is, _I'm_ not supposed to know."

"You will know."

"I know that too," I continued. I hated seeing his brooding face. And to think that I had caused that expression hurt me more. I resolved to just give in.

"Seriously Quil, don't worry about it," I said, trying to inject a perkiness into my voice. "Sometimes secrets are not ours to tell, sometimes they're better left unsaid for the moment…" I relented vaguely. "Anyways, I get it," I finished, mustering up my best smile. Quil seemed satisfied for the moment, but I never was. It tore me up inside to know that my best friend kept such a big part of his life hidden from me. The rational part of me justified the secrecy but the teenage girl inside of me, hated the very thought of it.

I left Quil sitting on my bed as I walked around my room again, gathering my things for the day ahead.

"Have you got any work due soon, Claire?"

"In a couple weeks," I responded.

"Are you sure?" he pressed on. I groaned. "Don't you think I'm capable of keeping track of the dates Quil?"

His eyes scanned over the mess of my room and came back to focus on me.

"I do Claire, you know I'm just looking out for you. And anyways, how do you keep track of anything in this room?"

"It's fine Quil. I just haven't had the time to clean lately." I pored over the papers in my hands. "Is it this one or this one?" I thought to myself. I resolved in putting them both into my binder.

"If you haven't had time to even clean your room, then how do you expect to find time to do this job you've applied for?"

I rolled my eyes at this. Ever since I put in that stupid application at a diner in Forks, he's been telling me I shouldn't have done it.

"Seriously, Quil – I haven't even gotten the job yet, so don't be so concerned about it."

"Of course I'll worry about it Claire. I worry about you." That pained look came back to his face. "What if your grades suffer? What if you get harassed by customers?"

"Who doesn't get harassed by customers Quil? I'm sure unreasonable people working at Jake's garage have verbally attacked you before. Things like that are meant to happen. It's the circle of life, my friend. " I grabbed my backpack from my chair and put my camera inside.

"But it shouldn't happen to you Claire."

Silence hung in the air, as I didn't bother continuing this argument.

"What do you want to eat for breakfast?" I asked him.

"It's okay, I already ate this morning."

"Huh? That's weird, " I countered.

"We had a meeting at your Aunt Emily's before I came here."

Even breakfast wasn't a safe topic this morning. Everything today reminded me of Quil's distance, making me remember that the dull ache in my heart was still there. I couldn't understand why we were so out of sync today.

"Oh well, I guess you don't need to stay then. Bye Quil," I said, without thinking.

I turned around to get cereal out of cupboard. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Quil's eyes droop to the floor.

"Why do I have to be so harsh?!" I scalded silently. I didn't understand my reactions at all today. Everything in my head seemed more off-kilter than usual.

Quil left, and I went through the rest of my routine. Eating, showering, dressing - after the events of this morning, the small pleasures I usually relished seemed to lack lustre. I was soon off to another day of school.

While my La Push School was comparatively small to others in the area, the same social dynamic existed everywhere. There would always be "popular," people at the top of some social hierarchy, scaring the cliques below them into submission. I didn't have many friends, but I definitely wasn't a loner. Quil had always been my closest friend, and so I found it hard to replicate that relationship with anyone else at school. He filled the space completely, so I was left with a social group, but no one else in particular who I was especially close to.

The first morning bell resounded throughout the building, as I was finishing up at my locker. First period was art class, which I seemed to enjoy the most. I wasn't really much of a painter or drawer or sculptor, but art class let me explore my photography and filmmaking. The room was buzzing with students streaming in through the multicoloured studio and moving into the more traditional classroom part of the room. It was Friday, and the relief that it was the end of the school week was transmitted through the increase in excited noise. Chatter filled the room, books and binders were smacked onto desks and chairs slided over the floor.

"Finally! The rain has stopped!" my friend Lana exclaimed as she dropped her belongings on the desk to the right of me.

"I know, I can finally get a start on my short film now," I responded happily.

"Exactly, " she continued. " Do you know what your concept is yet?"

"I know I want it to be shot mainly outside, but I honestly have no idea what I'm trying to get out of this. I just feel this urge to do something very earthy and natural," I said thoughtfully. "Have you started your project yet?" I queried.

"Yeah, I started painting my first canvas the other day, but somehow, something just lacks. I can't pinpoint what is going wrong, " Lana said regretfully.

With that, our teacher walked in and commanded attention from the class. While I usually paid attention to Ms. Lott's classes, today my mind was roaming. I needed to determine a concept for my short film, I needed to apologise to Quil. "Gosh, I really need to clean my room!" I thought, as my mind wandered over to visions of the chaotic lifestyle I had been unable to straighten out. Something had really thrown a spanner into the works, so to speak. The pressure was looming over me, ready to bring me down if I didn't take control of all these aspects of my life ready to spiral off path.


	3. Chapter Three

**Author's Note – **I've been sick lately, and inspired to write, which luckily enough seems to be one of the few appropriate activities to partake in whilst ill =]. Please let me know what you think about this story =].

**Chapter Three**

Out of all of my friends, I probably lived the furthest away from the school. While La Push itself wasn't that big, we had reached the last of my friends' homes five minutes ago. I was therefore alone, meandering slowly off the marked track. My boots were sinking slightly into the nearly solidified mud, squelching as I took each step. After a long day of school, I had no desire to rush home. At home I'd be faced with the possibility of trying to make amends with Quil or doing my homework – neither of which sounded too appealing to my stress-filled mind. So I lazily walked off into the direction of the beach, taking a short cut through the mass of trees.

I had lived here with my mother since I was three years old. I was born in Neah Bay, which is not too far north from La Push. While I am actually of the Makah people, I have lived here for so long, that I seem to know more about the Quileutes. Quil has tried to tell me that my family moved here because of him – he dramatically proclaimed one day that I had just become too attached to him, that they couldn't bear to keep us apart, but I don't believe him. He might be my serious, overprotecting "big brother," as he calls himself, but he definitely jokes around too. However, the most probable truth as to why we moved to La Push is probably invested in the unexpected death of my father when I was three and my sister Lily was five.

While most people seem to believe that his death had a lesser emotional impact because I was so young when he passed away, to me this couldn't be more wrong. The first memory I have of my father is fairly stock standard, except for the fact that I remember it was incredibly sunny that day. So uncharacteristically sunny for the Olympic Peninsula, that we were probably enjoying the generous rays of sunlight in the park, playing as young children do. I remember feeling so energised and so happy. I was enveloped by my own joy; ready to burst open from the fun I was having with my sister and my parents and feeling so incredibly loved. My sister and I were the centre of the universe, and our doting parents orbited around us. But when dad was rushed to hospital, when they attached multicoloured wires and obtrusive needles, when his heart stopped beating, it felt as if the universe we had built had collapsed on itself. I couldn't comprehend my own feelings at the time, but when I reminisce on these memories, it's almost as if I have to feel this pain twice, only now I don't feel the pain dulled by the innocence and naiveté of youth. When people talk of him now, I can't help but feel that pang of loss because I didn't get to know him. My mother always talks of him, "so you never forget," she says, but how can I forget someone who I didn't even know? When they tell me how great a man he was, how proud I should be of his life, I feel sorry that I never got to understand that, to witness him through these eyes I have now. In a somewhat detached sense, I understand that his death was destined. Life would have turned out completely different without this sequence of events, and for that, I need to appreciate the here and now instead of questioning what could have been.

The nearing of the beach triggered me out of deep thought, as I noticed the mud change to sand. I gazed over the length of the shoreline and was relieved at how the beach was relatively deserted this afternoon. As fall was quickly transforming itself into a cold, sharp winter, only the determined trekked out to the beach these days to swim. Today there was no breeze and the beach seemed so calm and almost stationary. I dropped my bag to the sand and sat down with my legs stretched out. Today I didn't care about the moist sand ruining my clothes, or getting everywhere I didn't want it to be, I just needed time to stop and breathe.

Life was changing for me, and I felt as if I was on the edge of some great movement. I felt as though I couldn't accept things the way they were anymore. I was growing up, and the secrets that had surrounded my life – that had surrounded Quil – I couldn't bring myself to accept anymore. They had culminated into this feeling of complete despondency and it was unfair that I should feel this way. I'd always felt as if Quil had my best interests at heart – this is what he always told me at least – and now I was beginning to question it. I wasn't even sure why, but this morning, and the night before…it illuminated something in my mind that I had never seen in such a light before. "I should probably handle it better than I did this morning," I told myself, reflecting back on my strained conversation with Quil earlier that day. I sat there in the sand for a little longer, my mind wandering over the various tribulations in my head, and assessing how long I could stay here without someone getting worried and trying to find me. Feeling as though I had more direction than previously that afternoon, I quickly resolved to just go home as it was the simplest way of not getting into trouble.

I stood up and shook the sand from my bag and tried to dust off the clumps stuck on my blue jeans. I checked my watch, and noticed that it was already five o'clock. "Shit," I cursed under my breath, and altered my stride to a more brisk pace. Quil usually finished work at five and came over to hang with me after school. I hurriedly weaved my way out of the forest and back onto the street. I attempted to shrug my purple hooded jacket on as the temperature was dropping with the sun beginning to slowly lower in the sky. I walked for five minutes when I turned the corner, and noticed a panicked looking Quil, halfway up my street. Our eyes locked and his broad shoulders relaxed. "Claire!" he called, a sense of relief in his voice. "Where have you been?!" he demanded, the panic seemingly rising again.

"Wait a second," I yelled back, continuing to walk up the street as he waited for me midway. Within a few seconds, we were within arms length of each other and he closed the gap between us with one of the most intense hugs he's ever given me. "Claire-bear…" he drawled softly, enunciating every syllable of his pet name for me as he held me in place. There was sadness in the way he said my name.

"Where did you go? I was worried sick about you when I came here and you weren't home yet. I tried to think if you told me you were going somewhere this morning, but I couldn't remember so I freaked out and went to try and find you."

He let go of me to let me speak, his eyes searching my face for a reason as to why I would just leave him like that.

No matter how much I wanted the truth from Quil, it tore me up inside to hurt him like this. Maybe if I hadn't been so rude this morning, I would've demanded there and then for him to tell me what he's been hiding, but I just wasn't ready yet for that confrontation. So I chose the safe route.

"I just went to the beach," I said. "I'm so sorry Quil, I haven't been myself today. I shouldn't have been so mean this morning, I didn't intend to do anything like that. And I've just been having a hard time lately…I don't know how to explain it, but I just needed to be by myself and think, so I went to the beach. I lost track of time, and truly I'm sorry. You have enough to worry about, you shouldn't have to worry about me not being where I should be." He hugged me again, and just like that I was forgiven.

"Don't worry my Claire-bear, just don't try to scare me like that again," he said. "I love you," he said, his voice softening. And that was when my heart seemed to melt in a terribly romantic way. My legs would probably fail me if my brain wasn't fast enough to comprehend that he loved me as a friend only. But for that moment, it was fun to pretend that Quil really did love me, like a boy loves a girl. Except in reality, I knew Quil was a man, which ruined my possibilities of him ever loving me, a girl. He held me back, his hands in front of him and on my shoulders. "What would I have told your mother when she came home and you weren't there?" he questioned.

"I don't know, tell her I got eaten by a bunch of vampires," I said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood with a little absurdity.


	4. Chapter Four

**  
Author's Note – **I've had this chapter pretty much done for a few months now, but could never finish it. Not updating is like the worst way to build readers, but I can only update when I feel the inspiration. Kind of a sad story of my life hah. Nevertheless, I do hope you enjoy this latest installment. For those of you wondering, I do know where this story is going for at least the next five chapters if not more. So in my mind I have every intention to continue this. My take on the Quil and Claire world is still a story that interests me, a story I'd love to tell properly.

**Chapter Four**

By midday Saturday, I was losing it.

The entire contents of my closet had been scattered haphazardly over my dresser, desk, bed and floor. It felt like I had tried on every possible item of clothing I owned in an attempt to find the perfect outfit for my job interview at the Forks Diner today. I slid down to the floor and sat miserably amongst my scattered garments. I dejectedly picked up a long purple peasant skirt and wrapped it around my shoulders in an attempt to create some seemingly effortless new fashion statement. My eyes flashed over to the full-length mirror to my right, appraising my disillusioned attempt at dressing myself. This was pointless. I had never before understood the age-old dilemma of "I have nothing to wear," until now. It felt as though nothing I owned would work. I breathed out a heavy sigh as I heard the whirring engine of Quil's truck pull up in my driveway.

"Lily!" I yelled out to my older sister who was hopefully still at home.

"What Claire?" she called back from the kitchen.

"Can you come up here, please!?"

A speedy Quil bounded into my room almost immediately, with a familiar look of concern etched into his face. "What's wrong Claire?" he demanded.

My sister walked in after him and assessed the site before her, her eyes scanning the room and then eventually resting on my face.

"Claire-" she began.

"Lily, I can't figure out anything! This is futile! Nothing I wear seems right. Maybe this is a sign? Maybe I shouldn't go to the interview?"

"This is what I've been saying all al-" Quil started.

"QUIL!" cried Lily, cutting him off. "She's going to this interview, I don't care what you say." Lily glared at Quil, a fierce determination in her eyes and her arms crossed in front of her chest as if to say "if you want to stop Claire, you'll have to go through me first." Quil was used to this occurrence, and simply smiled at Lily, probably taking in the ridiculousness of the situation. Lily was probably 110lbs and 5 feet tall, even shorter than me at 5'5", and had no chance in the world of physically stopping the towering Quil from doing anything.

"Someone, please, just help me choose something to wear!" I pleaded desperately with them. Lily looked over to me and relaxed her arms as she walked over to my dresser to inspect the clothes I had strewn across the open drawers. She held up a jade coloured shirt and said "How about this one? You can wear it with your black pants? This is easy, and you'll look professional."  
"But do I _want_ to look professional? Come on, this isn't some office job, it's a diner." Quil sat quietly on my bed, taking in the conversation before him.

"What do you think Quil?" I continued.

"Uhmm…" he began awkwardly, glancing over to my sister who looked as if she was ready to kill if he said the wrong thing, "I think you look beautiful just the way you are." I smiled. Trust Quil to melt my heart when I least expect it. I sighed as I watched my sister roll her eyes. She always found it funny that Quil was always hanging around me, and was always in on teasing Quil with Jacob and Embry when he pretty much always gave in to my demands. However, on the other hand, she did appreciate his presence in my life. She knew Quil was fiercely overprotective, a trait Lily and Quil shared to some extent. She understood he had my best interests at heart, but couldn't fully comprehend why. I couldn't fully comprehend why either. I guess the most logical reason would be that Quil is really loyal. For as long as I've known him, he's had the same friends - friends he treats like his own family. That made it easy to understand why he'd stick for so long, but never really explained why he chose me. He had known my sister as for as long as he'd known me and yet he was never as close to her. I guess it was just another one of Quil's mysteries that I didn't know why I accepted.

Lily left the room and quickly returned with one of her own dresses. It was a light champagne coloured A-line dress that looked as though it would reach the top of my knees. She held it up for my approval as I ran up to hug her and pulled the dress out of her hands. "Thank you!" I exclaimed, immediately pulling my sweater off, revealing my white singlet underneath. Quil turned his head to the floor as my gaze met his for a split second. He was obviously embarrassed that I was undressing in front of him, even though I wasn't being indecent. I half wanted him to look at me.

I unzipped the back of the dress and pulled it roughly over my head in haste. Lily was on hand to zip me back up and tied the ribbon around my waist. Taking off my old jeans from underneath, I looked into the mirror and assessed the outfit. Lily pressed nude-coloured tights into my hands and I tried to multitask as I inexpertly pulled tights up my legs and watched myself in the mirror. I liked how the sleeves reached my elbows, and the dress didn't expose too much cleavage. As hard as it was to admit it to myself, I looked somewhat elegant. After slipping on some tan leather flat shoes, I quickly grabbed my bag with my resume inside and slipped a coat over my shoulders. "Are we ready to go?" Quil asked, as we walked out of my room and down the stairs.

"Yes," I replied happily, opening the front door.

"Good luck," Lily called after me as Quil opened the truck door for me to get in.

The drive to Forks seemed to go faster than I expected. A blur of greenery and asphalt passed by my eyes as I was starting to feel uncertain about what I was doing. Quil started asking me questions to help me prepare for my interview.

"Ok, so what if they ask you why you want to work there, what will you say?" he asked. I squirmed and sunk lower into my seat, resting my forehead on the clammy palm of my hand. "Claire?" Quil asked, still looking at the road. After a brief moment of silence, he glanced over to me and noticed that something was definitely wrong. With one hand on the steering wheel he reached out to touch my face with his warm hand, "Claire! You're so cold and your face looks so pale. What's wrong?" he asked urgently.

"Ugh…pull over Quil," I muttered, with my stomach aching and churning.

He immediately swerved onto the grass next to the road as I unlocked the door and pushed my way out of his truck. Within seconds he was outside with me, a frantic look on his face telling me he had no idea what was going on. I hunched over and vomited. Quil held my long dark hair as I continued to disgustingly heave the entire contents of my stomach on the side of the road.

"Yuck," I said, turning my face away from him and trying to wipe my mouth. "I'm sorry you had to see that, that was just gross," I said, embarrassed. Within seconds he held out his t-shirt under my face. I looked up to him; the look of concern had faded away into a look of empathy. "Here, take this to clean your face, you shouldn't mess up your coat."

"Are you sure? I don't want to ruin your clothes. It's so cold out too, you'll freeze."

"It's nothing that can't be washed out, Claire. And you know how warm I am. I don't even need clothes really. Just take it!" he said smiling at me.

I gingerly took his white t-shirt into my hands and properly wiped away the mess still on my face.

"I'm so sorry Quil, I just got so nervous. This has never happened before, even I'm surprised," I said, getting back into the truck. I started chewing a piece of gum to take the disgusting taste out of my mouth.

"Don't worry Claire-bear, you'll be fine," he said reassuringly.

"I will be fine," I repeated slowly, as we pulled into the parking lot of the Forks Diner.

Quil waited for me in his truck as I made my way into the diner. I glanced back at him as I reached to push the door open and he gave me a reassuring look. A bell jangled as I pressed the door open, and I scanned the room. Customers were packed into booths around the restaurant, hastily enjoying their Saturday lunches as waitresses bustled around them, taking orders, serving food and cleaning tables. I hesitated for a moment as I clutched my resume in my hands and evaluated the room. Seemingly out of nowhere, a perky middle-aged woman sprung out from beside me. "You must be Claire?" she said happily, shaking my hand. She looked anything but demure. Her bright red hair was somewhat tamed into a frizzy bun at the back of her head, her long nails were laquered with a bright shade of pink and her emerald green dress was only toned down by the black apron she wore over it, embroidered with a Forks Diner logo on the top left.

"How did you know?" I asked.

"Oh, you just have that scared job interview look about you," she replied smiling.

I inwardly groaned, but tried to appear more confident.

"I'm Kelly, the store manager here. Anyways, it's so busy in here, you better come back with me into my office and we can do your interview there," she said, as she set off towards a door next to the kitchen.

**********

"I got the job!" I exclaimed as I threw myself into the cab of Quil's truck and slammed the door with excited vigour. "See, see," I said, holding up my very own Forks Diner apron.

"Congratulations Claire-bear!" he said, pulling me in for a hug.

"Thanks Quil. It means a lot to me that you've come to accept this," I replied into his shoulder. We pulled apart but he held onto me at arms length and said, "Well, I still would rather if you didn't...but I can't stop you, so I might as well support you."

"Haha, thanks Quil. I promise I will keep on top of my school work and not get into trouble if that makes you any happier," I said.

"Oh, I'd like to see how long this lasts, " he added sarcastically, starting the car and driving back home to La Push.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

It was a quiet, lazy Sunday. I was sitting cross legged on the carpeted floor at the living room table, highlighters, pens and geometry equipment sprawled over the surface as I made my way through my math homework. Lily was sitting crouched over on the sofa, painting her toenails a vibrant shade of fuchsia polish whilst the television was on, unwatched in the background. Mom was busy in the kitchen, simultaneously preparing dinner and filling out forms for work. She owned her own business in Port Angeles, which made her presence at home somewhat scarce at times. Not only was Port Angeles about an hour and a half away, she worked long hours during the week and was always being inundated with paperwork. Nevertheless, even with her busy schedule, she always seemed to make time for Lily and I.

I looked over at my sister, painstakingly perfecting each brush stroke over her nail beds. "I don't even know why you're painting your toes Lily, it's always cold in La Push, no one's even going to look at your feet," I commented as I was putting the finish touches on a particularly difficult problem.

"But _I _have to look at my feet Claire," she responded tiredly, as if we had gone over this a million times before, which we had. I rolled my eyes and started the next question as we settled into relative silence again.

"Claire!" Mom called from the kitchen.

"Yeah," I replied distractedly, with my head still scanning the textbook for the numbers, and my left hand punching them into my calculator.

"Is Quil coming over for dinner?" she replied.

"Um, yeah I guess so," I called back.

"Why are you even asking, Mom? Quil's pretty much _always _over for dinner," Lily interjected with a pointed look on her face.

I glanced over at Lily, a confused look etched into my expression. She gave a non-committal shrug as she focussed back on her nails and Mom walked into the room. Her dark, shoulder length hair was tied back and the green apron she had tied around her waist made her hazel eyes stand out even more. "I was just wondering because you said Quil was taking you to the party down at the beach tonight, you know they always have food," she said casually, leaning against the door frame.

"Mom, you of all people know how much those guys eat, I'm sure the bonfire will just be like a post-dinner snack to them," I said.

An amused grin spread over my mother's face as she simply exited the room to finish her cooking.

**********

Quil arrived at 6pm exactly, wearing his usual uniform of cut-offs and a t-shirt. For some reason, his body temperature was way above that of a normal human, rendering the looming winter chill completely useless against him. Quil was not one to get dressed up, but even with his effortless style, I had to admit that he still managed to look completely sexy. There was something in the Quileute boys' genes that must have made them look as though they worked out, because all of Quil's friends had a muscular physique to rival that of a body builder's. The only difference was that they were tall and sinewy at the same time.

"Hey Claire," he said, smiling that genuine "Quil-smile," as I called it, that the uninitiated were not privy too. We all took our seats at the table as my mom started serving the pasta.

"Hey Quil," I replied, "we're leaving for the bonfire straight after this right?"

"Mhmm," he responded, already wolfing down the pasta. In the time it took me to finish my single plate, Quil had downed four large servings of my mom's ravioli.

After dinner was over, I grabbed a black hoodie and my video camera and we were out the door. Darkness had already fallen over La Push, but I could see from my house the lit bonfire casting its orange glow over the beach. It was too cold to walk, so Quil drove us in his truck. I had only been invited to one of these bonfires once before, but that same day I had come down with a flu that had left me bedridden for a week. Quil of course, being the sweet man that he his, was pretty much glued to my bedroom for the entire week, almost as if he was afraid I would die. He took hourly temperature readings, and cooked me so much soup I thought he was attempting to feed an army. But that was over a year ago, and I hadn't been invited since, which annoyed me because I thought I was finally being accepted. I thought I was one step closer to finding out about Quil's secrets. But then yesterday night, completely out of the blue, Quil asked me if I would like to come to the bonfire tonight. I could barely contain my excitement. He told me that I could record the old stories that Billy Black told, so that the future generations of La Push could witness them in their original form. I agreed completely. From what I had heard of these legends, they were completely enthralling to listen to. And whilst people in the past had taken notes of them to prevent them disappearing, I knew that this oral tradition could only be truly preserved in its original form.

We rounded the corner towards the beach. I was nervous, but at the same time utterly excited for tonight's action. Quil greeted his friends warmly. I loved seeing him in what I called his "natural habitat." When we hung out together, it was usually just us two, but every so often, I'd get to see him interact with his brothers, with Jacob and Embry and all the other guys.

"Hi there Claire," Jacob said, greeting me with a cheeky smile and a hug, "I don't see you around these events often," he continued, looking back to Quil standing next to me, who had for some reason or another, dropped his relaxed smile and tightened his jaw defensively.

"She was too young before," Quil said seriously.

"Hrmm, yeah Quil..." Jacob said sarcastically, flashing me his toothy smile.

"Whatever Jake," he said, running his fingers through his short hair, "she's here now. You should go say hello to your Aunt and Uncle, Claire," he resolved, his face relaxing from his previous tension as he looked down to my face. Quil took my hand into his rather possessively and led me over to the rest of the group, sitting casually on logs near the fire.

"Claire!" my Aunt Emily called as she hurried towards me and gave me a hug. "How have you been dear?"

"I'm good Aunt Emily. Yesterday I got a job at the Forks Diner," I told her happily.

"Congratulations!" she said, giving me yet another hug. "When do you start?"

"Um, next week sometime I think. I have to call up tomorrow and ask when exactly my first shift is. Quil is, as per usual, a little against the idea," I said, a smirk unwillingly spreading across my face as I attempted to look at Quil innocently.

"And as per usual, Claire fails to take my advice," he countered with a sigh.

"Aww Quil, lighten up," said Aunt Emily. "Anyway, could you two help me bring the food out to this lot, I don't know how much longer they can wait," she said grinning.

**********

After everyone was well fed, Billy Black was wheeled into a more visible spot at the head of the group. Quil told me that his grandfather usually tells the traditional stories as well, but that he wasn't feeling so well tonight. I set up my camera near Billy, and he began, his voice deep and warm as he told the Quileute legends the way he had been told by his ancestors. I moved quietly around the group, recording the spectators as well as Billy. It was amazing to watch and listen to, knowing that these stories were ingrained in the history and the very lives of my friends, and in some ways even I had become apart of the story through them. About half an hour later, the stories had finished and the group had relaxed back into the party. I finished packing up my equipment and walked over to where Quil was throwing a football around with Embry. "Hey guys," I said, walking down the slight slope of the sand nearer to them. Embry passed the football to me and I caught it surprisingly easily.

"Haha, you should be a pro footballer Claire," Embry said jokingly, now standing next to me and messing up my hair.

"Yeah right Call, thanks for noticing my skill at sports," I said sarcastically, trying to move his hands away from my head. "Quil, I'm just going back to Aunt Emily's to help her clean some of this stuff from the party, so I'll probably be back in half an hour or so," I said. Knowing Quil's propensity to overreact, it was simply easier to tell him beforehand where I was going.

"Okay Claire," he replied, returning back to his game with Embry.

My aunt and uncles house was not too far from the beach, so it was easy to carry all the food containers up to the kitchen. Jared's wife Kim and Jacob's girlfriend Renesme helped us too, which made light work of it. As they scrubbed, I dried and stacked everything back into its place. Kim was rather quiet, but Renesme chatted comfortably as we worked. As I pushed one wooden drawer closed, the frantic slam of the front door reverberated throughout the kitchen. Emily, unperturbed, simply took off her apron and went to see what was going on. I could hear murmurings through the thin walls, increasing in volume as more people seemed to enter the living room. I leaned closer to the wall, momentarily leaving my post. All I heard was Uncle Sam's deep voice growl, "the leeches are closing in on us," when the kitchen door opened and it was Aunt Emily looking sympathetically at me.

"Claire, I think it's best if we take you home now dear," she said, placing her hand on my shoulder and guiding me to the living room, where I noticed, the entire party had gathered. Their enormous figures engulfed the entire room as some looked at me rather awkwardly.

"What?!" I asked to no-one in particular. "Will someone please tell me what is going on?!" I demanded, hands on my hips and unwilling to back down.

"Quil," my uncle began, "you need to take her home now."

Before I knew it, Quil was carrying me in his arms and we were out the door. "Quil! What are you doing? Let me down!" I protested. He didn't budge, maintaining his iron grip on my body. I resigned quickly to just let him take me home, as his face remained still and completely determined. He started in the direction of my house at the speed of a run. Within a couple minutes, we were at my front door. He set me down gently, allowing me to get my house keys out of my pocket. I unlocked the front door and said, "Quil Ateara, I do not know what is going on right now, but you _are_ going to tell me, or you my friend, are banished from my house!" attempting to be stern, but still not wake up my family at the same time. A look of mortification spread over Quil's face which seemed to stab me in the chest. I took a different route. "Gah, it's fine, you won't be banished, just tell me what's going on," I said quickly. "I'm scared Quil," I added softly.

"Look Claire, I know I told you I wouldn't leave you like I did last week, but I have to go again," he said, looking frustrated. "And it's not really like last time, this time I'm letting you know that I will be back, okay? Definitely. I'll probably be here tomorrow or something. I'm sure it won't take as long as last time, but it's really important that I go now, for your safety, for everyone's safety," he said. I gave him a tired look. "Whatever, Quil," I replied. I didn't want to fight him. I knew he had to protect the reservation, but the secrets just made me sick. I didn't want to be constantly reminded of this anymore.

"Just promise me that you'll stay inside, okay? Promise," he said intensely.

"Well I have to go to school tomorrow and - "  
"Please, just don't go anywhere alone if you have to go somewhere. And please, don't go through the forest at all."

"Fine, Quil," I said, fighting back a yawn. I had been hit with a wave of exhaustion. "This is simply too much stress to take in every week," I thought to myself.

He took me in his arms and held me close. "I'll be back, okay. Please keep out of trouble Claire. I'm sorry," he murmured into my hair, and once again left me to conduct his dangerous, secret business.

**Author's Note – **I'm trying quite hard to somewhat regularly update this story =]. Whilst I'm getting way more hits than before, it seems I'm getting virtually no reviews. I want to thank the one person who did, CindyCinlou555 for the review! I really do appreciate feedback – positive and negative, so please, to all those people out there who I know are reading, just a few words are really helpful.


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